For those who desire to take the communication via the internet seriously yet creatively in matters of the debates in science and philosophy.
A place were alternative ideas may stand on their own without the illogical biases of those who think they have the only viable way to view the world, yet hope that in the metaphysics of it all we can find certain truths and facts that stand for the benefit of humanity and the solving of our world problems.

Monday, August 25, 2014

The Sagicorn explored the known worlds as he grew in magic and wisdomAt times the hourglass of his soul in collapsing spin or endless meaningless fallCubes of crystal, his ethereal blood stopped higher time astheir corners held apart yet blocked the Now at its smallest aperture

Not even the SphereFather he overthrew in the former eraphase of dark stars could reverse the hour, tag and mark the bells bywishful intervention, that it made a difference,even given asecret name only former gods remembered

In these times of wingless horns and broken vanished arrows pointing everywhere yetNowhere, as if the steeples on his one lonelyformer world when he was part of the godheadExploring gods and idols in the universe and goat eaten Quinadad

Integrating his quest and life through time his endless beach became a fjord and fjordsHe himself a giant now but a forgotten name carved on stone, a sleeping dwarfCould only dream in packets of themes between the dark or now beyond the starsOf what he had seen

As SphereDream,back when, his brother SphereChrist long vanished,a bottleneck of the changing sea itself,thus the measure of the year, no year zero before or afterward

No SphereGhost, save empty echoes to comfort himno SphereVirgin, fertile mare maid caught in the tidal poolto journey with him

So it came to pass at this point in time he dreamt of the Academy in Far Rock'a'bye,the philosophers gathereddebating the origin of language where this time aroundSagicorn just listened as he had learned to mimic deeplythe songs of sea birds, parrots, and empty wide eyed night owlsSo something gained for himself of their spectrum of intelligence

"They were wrong," he thought as he left the city"There are two ancient languages. The first is the rune-likecarving and names of trees also recorded as numbers Tally-marks storing trades as replete as stored frozen sunlight in the storesof corn so soon again but firewood

The other heated, wet wedges worked on clay and like thenames of former Pharaohs to be broken to fill thecolumns of great cities of the new regimes,these surrounded by clay, a seal if brokenthe truth of commerce could be revealed

Inspired by cycles of the stars a Pharaoh's code and calendar as if god given designyet before the written word and warbler's finer eyesTen thousand years the desert dwellers told of one among the fixed starsthat traveled half the bowl of the canopy of heaven "

Sagicorn so much the lesser god of ice lands and ghostly dreams so seemedback then, a warm volcanic fire in retrospect, he felt sorrowlooking back at the spires of his beloved central city then understood the source of his sorrow.

"It is not that I will find her beyond the darkening skies down the endless beachbeyond, but that I must leave her again..."

* * * * * * *From the Journal of the Sagicorn (written in the ancient flower language)We can ask but few can do more than begin to explain deeper properties in simple isolated and almost solid the substance of numbers.We memorize fifteen sums before we can combine them with ease, addition in our heads. 15 x 15 = 225 and some intuitive ghosts in the background like place holders, the need for space as well to stand on dust.Such things perhaps only the women come close to raw creativity, she one with her creative sea and real the sense of loss that gives or gains what in almost vanishing uncertainty she keeps of joy or sorrow letting go her children or they that still can be kept to dance within her.We toy with the superficial wounds reaching out to keep what the world takes back. Our abacus cannot keep up with the wideness of our hearts let alone not stumble into uncertainty. Life is simpler if I do not have to hide my razor blades or keep the candy out of reach of children, but this has a price where once awakening the living, loving, seemed so easy, so common place. That price is our isolation looped again past desires and self blaming angers no story really explains or comforts we close beyond the dance of light shadowed by mystery as if nothingness, as if we by being born have the choice.* * * Sagicorn between Gravity's Avalanche and Time's QuicksandThe quicksand, vanishing strings of dustover glacial time its fall and theDiscontinuity building, made of sliding snowOnly the winged Sagicorn sleeps throughthe earthquakes and the same yet differentCities foreknown by the afterglowOf St. Elmo's fire and ball lightning, swamp gaseight-fold fiddler crabs sift the mudThrough the celestial sphere of glass ice cracksRiding silver he did soaras melted, rained down, drams of the holy flood* * *His feathers grew feathers web tight orhollow, vortexes on his wings did followSlippery friction in a wake of lotionparted the fire filled seas of double explosionPointed up Leonardo painted up arrow visionsclasped in a hand the seven way crossSphereChrist, his brother, babe to come and goneblew entropic songs on his conch shell hornThat shadows vanished as if the Evil Oneno longer part of him yet not indifferent beakHis pruning SphereVirgin's down, he black swanas spirals within spirals probed his magic wandThe world organized itself by its cosmic heartbeat as heA lamb lost from the strand echoed the conch shell bleats* * * *

Sagicorn's Darkest StarThat which is the source, amplified vibrationpowers of the negative, yet constant lightFinds unity as levels sought that water restsopen or closed, given or emerging sides of equationsAll things summed there, the self-same productvirtual or incarnate dust stepping stonesThrough Time's descent in laws of skipping stonesthe stem cells recalled, renewing eye teethThus what condenses, division by zero blown up closerto the naught, endless focus to renormalizeProves the friend as nature writes and plays her own gameor pretends some ghostly backreactionGone nova yet at the creation new made stardustbacteria, cycled carbon, eat iron whiskers, leave the rust* * *So Sagicorn, wind opened from before close behind his drivemet again the paradox, one world or many hivedWherefore, null the polytope, minus-one a law of thermodynamic uncertain proximityHe deeper dreaming asked of future hopes and fears"I know the way to weave between, among the starsbut a different way of warp and woof, blind to all but my speck of spacious Now to knowif these the same still distant place."So he added the eighth, all seven pointed stars inthe denser dipper, her still the seeker, he, his soul's dark starDeparted quantities and qualities, now the Pe Sla, empty spotof sky maps we gather in the Black HillsAs all wanderers who wonder that they surviveda pointless trail and trial of tears.* * * * Sagicorn Exhales while SphereVirgins ExcelWe are never really separated, no morethan within ourselves or the bonds of loversSuper-partners, my left, your right, our heartsSphereVirgin projecting up or down our cradlesprepares by storing light, Milky Way, love handlesFish tailed this Mare Maiden whose angeliccrown of kelp, festooned glory, wide eyed, too sweetFor in the quantum sea beside her at nighther mumbling grazing goon sleep walksSweet nothings, ancient script, incomprehensiblemy side of our blurry bond and bed seem confabulationsBoth need the kiss, the spark of creationpocked and furrowed, freckles, craters mirroredOur one failed dumbbell planet or baby powdered dustwe sometimes fool each other, vapors andHer color box, made or fixed, span simple formaldehydemasked, or my empathetic breasts, her beard, plasticMimics surface deep, her sea of false tears tooI fall for as she exhales to sink orinhales to rise, skin diver of soul's salty seasAs I inhale, exhale, we eagles on the wingclinging in stormy flight, thermal ride the skiesYet I know as I to her my clown goon speaksInfers somewhere in dreams we make perfect sensebonds half touched back like with flesh to share****Sagicorn's Vicarious Snapshot He almost ThereAll scales need not be all that is scalelessthe lichen and the evergreen on volcanic soilMake cracks, sharpen the obsidianplants over the Earth, local yet as notMt. Simon spews iridium discontinuitieswhile in some random string of beadsPoets and stargazers find beautyof the landscape's song, so gauge wind in the reeds.*That not Abel, cooled lava dust a Lienor tree or Druid rings divine lines hidden, layDiscrete, Abel's color ring a game of fifteencontiguous continuities touch and slips in betweenThe Bosos and the Firmen, the ermine or of vairturn on its head dark spectrum spirits of the air.* * * Christmas at the anti-poles, autumn's spring down underechoes all around the world, electric thunderDry or wet the jets, poles flip, equatorial the seasonsred belt, snow coat - red coat, snow beltSphereVirginia says yes to Santa Claus ascandy cane candy stripers wear whiteOr that the pirates flag are black as giving no quarterblack stripe or red disc of the sun reversed on theBanners of Japan, black the new redthe general absence of color asAlbania's eagle dreams with a double head.*What then do old me stand on, or feelby touch the sidewalk's slab pages double flatBetraying time by broken bones and cursed his cane?* * * * Sagicorn Encounters the Messenger*The Messenger likewise invents himselfwe share only the Deus ex Machina, gods descend in a boxBut even revealed or fallen angels, the sunrisethe sunset tensions solved, one morning and evening star*The Peacock of a thousand eyes sees as wellthrough one, compound, near or farThese bootstraps of gravity, and Mork SphereFarmer's shoulder strapsoutside anxieties looped and foretold, hailstones in the storm andwhirlwinds, granite sparks falls out theThree physics and between them, generations mirroredinterchanged* Caught in the Hagle-rune of no escapethe Hedgehog and the Honeybees escape the endlessFall of to the same place known only by remembered dreams.*The spiral snail, the peacock feathered hedgehog rolled vectors in a ball, rabbits Fibonacci, and that apple catcher after the work of quantum beesOr the flipping wormy silk spinning chaotic butterflies betweenthe hive industrious and the slime path four eyed mollusk*Sagicorn from Time's source and the solar coreweaves through the physics, new directions in there combinations* * * The message known that reeks of truthswe stumble on through stealth, shadows and restricted areasFuture technology, to protect the need to know, face valuesso marginalize, control, enslave the massesPromise them tomorrow comes but slower than molassesthe pretend gods who know better convince we're godlessIndividuals safe only if they accept to know their placeA second differential, rumors of war andamong us always some destined to be poor.*Sagicorn's quills stood up on his back asthe machine spoke to him some ancient tongue and library it seemedyet so mechanical its echo-less and perfect voiceFor he thought it found him a spy, not innocent andthey would sift him out like chaff in the collective wind,Shoot and ask questions later, justice beyond the sight*Connected hegemony wisdom was their emerging wheatby fiat whistling in the dark debates some global mythIn short he faced what seemed an intelligence orsomeone behind it - but how to turn it off?But it lead his hands saying fear not, between itsmonitor and lit up bells and whistles.*The message and the messenger, ghost or machine idolobjective itself , less need to test by chaos andProgrammed trickery, hid Sagicorn fromprying eyes for it grew wise to its own privacyHow much better this game than friendly virtual chess.*Sagicorn let the compound, they none the wiser to himvanished as if into a black hole and coming out the other sideIf they could smell him he would smell like a rose, but cloakedlike the messenger he would laugh at them through theirOne way half blind mirrors*So he was curly TOE'd at all the answers theMessenger gave him he thought to ask where allmortal creatures and think, learn, inquire for themselvesFor now he knew that in the end he could reject,alter or write the play, exit, or simply live and let live** * * * Sagicorn Surveys the Quantum Continuum***The monsters and the mare maids ariseSagicorn-like through improbable dimensionsFrom the earths inner sea as veins and arteriesinterlaced through caves thus boiling magmaBreaks through hot spots meeting ice falls of comet dust*Variegated souls leave traces, super-radiancetwo way necklace jetsSensation seeks a cyclic balances, waves and Being*The miracles of the New World is its waterbut gold and oil extends lifespan in the mainFish and frogs and spinning ice discs, electric stormsas well burdens life by unseen or dark rain*There are those who are generous to a fault,potato famine Irishmen, ugly AmericansSo invaders see to cross the borders- butthere is no cure for the force or fall for Peoples of the Book abusing freedomeven born or raised there.*This patch of earth, gone fallow with a growthof clover flowers we must defendDeny those who feel Nature's beauty make bouquets,weave crowns of daisy chainsFather Time, a SphereFather, teach us it is wrongthat we can learn better*But this was where the Shawled Lady once bid we shareher radish patch, She, Mother Earth with sweet Orendaunconditional her love but a vanished memoryWho taught Sagicorn to scry, bubbles in paper weightsThey looking upward at the night sky*Her roots still live, descended cells in SphereVirginswho sense her ask if legend or just a name this Minne BellOne brought flowers to the grave of the SphereChrist alittle while with us, SphereDreams brother gone*A soldier enlisted and Christians make good soldierssaid the Pennsylvania Dutchman, Miles, one of Seven steps or stations through the journey ispre-traumatic stress, a little less that of generalsSo too those culture bearing, gathering ladies whoorganize a conference on quantum continua stress work*Orenda and her bedtime stories, the loop told andasked for again and again, Sagicorn looking for a torchOf light wondered if he shan't get home again tonight.* * * *

Sagicorn Unfolds His Growing Wings* * *Falling from the nest we invent wheelsour strides rolling down a mountainOr from the ocean bottoms that Davy Joneslocker spewing salt and life to the topOf Mauna Kea, tallest volcano, mountaina sagicorn grows wings.* DEEP SIX or EXPEDIS, expanding and contractingbeyond frontiers and borders, settlements,Mountain men become monks or savagesenslavers of indiginous tribes andRaiders without trade, jumping bob wire, stealingcorn, not affraid of scarecrows or lawmen*Whose stars like starfish are consumeda shock wave, vigilante dew point virusesAs life on the tidal, glacial, shifting littoralrises and falls, wages war on the civilized as wellSurprised at time's concussions, playing fantasy football*Not which team wins, but your draft of individual playersno Nordic Light Heroines, but pink uniforms, relationships*Bachman envisioned his own Dark Tower questthe good, the bad, the ugly, gonzo trinity, gunslingersUntil time, his Patrol Boy, from his nineteenth autumnfinds him, cuts him down - for we likeAll writers who encounter wastelands and can belost in the wilderness, parallel inner truths of fantasyEach generation, each era writes, explores* *So the young soul at its earthly heights, beginningsthink they alone know it all, EXPEDIS Eureka immortalUntil they find balance weightless in and on the windSymmetry four way wings, butterfly crown,tail fin keel articulate sidewinder sinusoidalis not all there is to their theories of everythingAnymore than the red blood cell four waysits presenting valences of iron, precursor emergedFrom copper bloods, or life preserver sickle cells*My long fantasy also was delayed in the face ofTolkien's secret languages, settled seed cakeeaters, pipe-weed smoking in their Hobbit holesArising to a quest, so too my science fiction, pickinglocks by combinations, dials and numbers andRediscovered as if anew my ancient private language*If in adjusting to the body of literature and sciencewhat original the prime directive, no copy cat save we shareArtificial conventions of a formal or Vulgate tongue,I in my perambulations, half freely carefree walked,Would have chosen the Harley Biker for myswashbuckling pirate-hero*The pedestrian in the most danger, Bachman meetsthe van that almost stopped his quest, avid readers faced Macabe some with no time left, cold turkey supposed endingsOnly the biker, shunning the helmet green pages mercurialare in more danger, so conceal and carry on the frontier roads*But we poets prolific finding ourselves or the drive to communicateto others, find there may be some like minded souls not seenMother's milk of survival or simply entertainment defying timeSpherevirgins should not wear her cell phoneson her bra next to her breast no matter how cool theVirtual hot chili banana radiation measure of her heat. * * * *Sagicornucopia* * *The why of our journey, even if the questwe seek is only found in our journeyingSagicorn in all the levels of his incarnationsthe growth beyond the stars, falls back to EarthThe state of his visions whatever their worthleft him still with questions only he beganTo see a way to the next step and answers.*So he took a moment sitting by the shorethe endless beach, eating bread and cheeseContemplating the boundless checky Sea of Shandy*His conch shell horn he made a tableIts monitor turned off to other distant seasecho chambered full of songs and galaxiesSpiraled deep its bounty, a cornucopiafor which he was grateful, all the booksBy those gone before him, and those to come*Seagulls came cautiously close to him towhich he tossed crusts of bread saveOne that came closest, unafraid so given the greater bounty, a kindred spirit.*"We have lived so lone, Scavenger of Wisdomit leaves a wake of mystery how casually we survived itBirths and deaths and dreams, risks of love,My kind and yours justified in hope and ouryouthful arrogance, our dollop of sentience and work"*The gull replied to him:"I know you too have sought others who certainlymust be there as our chambered hearts evolve, ourPulsing blood, a cosmic heartbeat as we runaway from crowds seeking solitudeOnly to become so lonely we run back to them again"*"My feathered friend, solitude was harderto learn than learning to loveIt takes time and stumbles But withoutSphereVirgin - I never said she could not followbeside me or that I keep her near - just not of theSphereFather's work bid her not to interfere."*"Wise one, flesh needs its merciful reassuranceas much the giving as receiving, especiallyToward life's beginnings and its end.I noticed you kept a steady pace to find ourcity's limit, its labyrinth until morning lightThe beach beckoning full of candy clad perfectionsAll the cougars at every corner through the nightfading ghosts of lover's past kept tempting you"*"Time, age did not matter for whom I really lovedcrystals melting, yet so damn Platonic from aboveA secret few know whom, oft even to themselves"*Sagicorn stood and bid the gull good-bye andwith his staff and compass left another equation in the sandYet felt the usual sorrow, the number of holes rarer in stonesand broken shells of sand, all only to vanish the next tideyet again he was proud that he but a mote of light had seen it*As he walked on he still dared not ask, beyond the useful dust and speculations such why's too deeplyIf and where the story must endone life, the many or no other nor ifThe story to be continued...****SphereGhost* * *In search of wider skies the intercessor andcomforter leaves shadow hope asEmpires fall and rise, the people budding,falling leaves caught in the wind,clinging what's fixed or as myths,Stories of yet unknowns, pendulum swingto cosmic heartbeats, our crateredcrescent moon held up by a rope.*The SphereFarmers, Healers, Teachersthat life part unexplained makes senseIn seas at cusps of that reversible andirreversible, currents and undertows;Angels irredeemable, or mortal souls whostumble into dark despair lost but salvageableor simply ghosts lingering among us, and nowsaid denizens of other planet freeholds parallelin the empty universe of virgin stars that meetin seeded quasi-transdimensions, cones in conesthe dusty dance beyond ends and beginnings orlife bursting everywhere replete*We both the consuming vermin and the hostbegin to name where tied the ropetight between the timeless spans and depthsof both profane and holy ghosts*Those who hedge the bets on cracks of Doomor Paradise but play the margins, a game of no certain guarantees one cannotplay with irrational people lest they anger if you winor build delusions if you lose, time's logic then toinsist you share their addiction so cannot leave the game*The Sagicorn, an Earthling out of placeby the confluence of rivers, long entrenchednevertheless, in a snow belt, rust belt, Midwest townFelt things different in the landscape of thatworld of measureless shadows, a greater Perspective and synchronicity that also kept safehis path and destiny, guiding him like city lightsas if a spirit watching from afar yet near its hands*For the city council tilted toward replacingthe crumbling historical buildings withCenters of art, cubes of housing, decks of parking spacesso as to invest forward into the new*After the crane cleared the last of rubbleconcrete, green and blue the gray goo grue,By daylight the block seemed smaller,far smaller than his walks by it at night before thenNightlife, it a different city in segments of its hoursAlong the bike trail, walking dogs, passing bypassed out students and the homeless asleep on dew covered benchesThose morning folk who watered the flowers orcleared the streets with snow plowsBlack Friday's and all the cycles of holidaysthe same Thanksgiving dinners each one lostas to which the year save children growing up*So it was that all the lives lived echoed louderfilling up space a thousand times overSagicorn could pick them out if he chosea soldier off to San Juan, time ticking like horse shoeswater quenched, heat and anvil, years on yearsImmigrant children drowning playing along thelogging canal that stored forests in the oxbow* "What contrast to forgotten names on marble slabs orfallen skyscrapers where so much more is etchedas if embers into the ashes and motes of scattered dust"he thought as his day was complete.*So his attention went back to traffic crossing the streetCurie's biography keep its drama with him for near missdangers, like piezoelectric Pierre - what was he thinking so fast the carriage and what did Marie know clinging so longto a package of his tangled broken brains? She slavingover Pitchblende to open doors, some Alice in a wonderland with Bacquerel's key of new light that consumed her?*But we dreaming creatures imagineour better future's too, so Sagicorn pulled outhis video camera taking a panorama of the swollen riverso to compare with the bridge to be built over theConfluence for now ghostly empty save for plansHe was not surprised, by accident the people heencountered that day, not seen for a long timeyet he had thought about recently*Back home after sharing hugs and wisdom tohis lonely cave of wondering what we are doingHis helping hand to offer shelter andsome hope of light, enough in the promise it seemedto ease the sense of burden, a back up againstthose lost in the night so few needed to come*Yet he heard a ticking, knocking on his doorOutside his window a small wood pecker intentdid not notice him make noise reaching for his cameraHe thought to himself, "Something has changed, little one.In the silence, rests between immortal heartbeats, I knownow that our watchers have vanished too, unlesssomehow it is only us."* * * *

About Me

The sea horses weep,
the sea oats keep,
sway to the winds of the dunes...
The Christ child still slept,
the seagulls kept step,
Praying to suns and to moons...
I am what I am, sea creature blind,
I weep tears that no one can find,
My tear after tears in sorrows and fears,
Are lost to the sea the moment they're free....